


Embracing the Dark

by starhawk2005



Series: A Light in the Dark [2]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Developing Relationship, F/M, Het, Smut, my kinks let me show them to you, non-penetrative snake!porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Manhattan, Thor never returns from Asgard, and a threatening Loki starts appearing to Jane. What does he want with her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Date: June 2012  
> Beta: A sincere thank you to my lovely and talented beta, canyr12. Loki demands that you kneel and compose hymns to her greatness.  
> Disclaimer: I fantasize about owning Loki, does that count?  
> Author’s note: I haven’t read a single Avengers comic, so this is all from the ‘Thor’ and ‘Marvel’s Avengers’ movie canon (and is spoilery for both).
> 
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> Banner courtesy of the lovely **cincoflex**!
> 
>  

Later, she’ll never remember all the exact details of how the sequence of events unfolded. Not with Loki, anyways.

With Thor, it’s somehow easier to remember, to keep it all straight. Guy comes down from sky, girl hits guy with car (twice), guy turns out to be a Norse god, his evil god brother tries to level her town, and guy saves them.

Guy kisses girl, promises to return…

And nothing. 

He never comes back.

At first, Jane isn’t sure what’s happened. The strange lights and storm-clouds spiraling in the sky, after Thor had returned to Asgard to take on Loki, hadn’t looked anything like the original Einstein-Rosen events she’d seen up to that point.

When the noise and storm clouds and rainbow-hued lights had finally faded from the sky, she’d felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. When days passed and Thor hadn’t come back, she was then certain the wormhole – Bifröst? – had been damaged somehow from his end. You didn’t need to be a rocket scientist – and she wasn’t, and boy, was she damned tired of explaining that to people! – to figure that out.

At first, she spends nearly every spare hour at her lab, trying to make the pieces fit. A month passes, then two, then four. The heartache spurs her on, along with probably enough caffeine to drown whatever’s left of Puente Antiguo. 

Finally, miraculously, she thinks she’s figured it all out, but she needs a power source. A _major_ power source.

Out of the blue a new opportunity comes up for her, and she flies halfway to the middle of nowhere, working on a special project for SHIELD. She’s so isolated from the outside world, that it’s a week after the so-called Battle of Manhattan before she even hears about it, and who has been involved. SHIELD has Erik be the one to tell her, as if somehow that will make it all OK that they lied, to get her out of the way. 

Iron Man. The Hulk. Captain America. The names Erik lists seem to go on forever, and all meaningless to her, except for two. 

Thor. Loki.

At first, she’s only thinking about Thor. He’d been here, dammit, and he hadn’t even bothered to say _hello_? Even after Fury explains to her the cost involved in getting Thor here to save the day, the anger remains. 

Jane can accept that Odin wouldn’t exert himself just to get Thor back to his mortal girlfriend. She can even accept Thor being focused entirely on stopping Loki and his alien army. 

But once the battle had been won? Still nothing. From what she understands, Thor had immediately taken both Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard. He hadn’t waited even a fraction of a second, hadn’t even picked up the goddamn _phone_.

That, she can’t accept. If he’d used the Tesseract to come back, if he’d shown up a day or even a week later and explained what happened, it probably would have been enough. But days turn into weeks, and weeks into another month, and still nothing.

Adding insult to injury, her research is at a standstill. She knows now that the Tesseract was the only thing powerful enough to fuel her makeshift Bifröst, and SHIELD hadn’t even bothered to let her know they had it. And now Thor has it, and it’s out of her reach.

She’s not usually an angry person, or she tries not to be, but there’s so much betrayal in all this. SHIELD kept the Tesseract from her, Erik kept the Tesseract from her (though he, at least, has a legitimate excuse), and Thor, who seemed like such a gentleman, has forgotten her. _I give you my word, I will return for you_. Yeah, right.

She tries to keep on working, because there isn’t much else left. She endures Darcy’s pitying looks, she forgives Erik because he had been little more than Loki’s puppet over the last several months, and he also seems genuinely sorry over what has happened. But she resolves that she’ll never again do anything to help SHIELD, not after all the crap they’ve pulled.

So she’s not sure when it all starts. Maybe two weeks after the Battle of  Manhattan, or maybe three or four. She’s still at the stage of trying hard not to be miserable, not to be hopeful that there’ll be some kind of reprieve and she’ll wake up one morning to find Thor standing outside her trailer.

It starts as a strange ‘itch’ between her shoulder-blades. A sensation like someone is watching her, but when she spins around, the lab is empty. Mom used to call that ‘someone walking over your grave’, but Jane has never felt anything as intense as this before. 

The next time it happens, goosebumps break out all over her skin. She can’t say why she feels it, but she’s pretty sure what emotion her observer is feeling. It feels like _hate_. 

When it begins to happen more frequently, on a daily basis, that’s when she begins to feel uneasy, even afraid. One time it even feels like someone is breathing against her skin, her ear and neck, but of course there’s nobody there once again.

Later, she’ll think that it was around this time that she starts to suspect who her phantom audience is.

Then the sightings begin. 

At first, she thinks she sees a man lurking in the background in Erik’s office when she goes to see him. A man in a suit, with long-ish dark hair, and pale skin, but when she pushes Erik’s door open, Erik’s alone in the room. She forgets about it until later, as Erik distracts her, looking at her in a new way. The way that seems to silently say “Maybe it’s not what you think. Maybe Thor didn’t forget about you. Maybe he’s coming back, as soon as he deals with whatever is keeping him away.”

_ I don’t know what to think,  _ would have been her reply. But he never says it out loud, and soon Jane will have more pressing matters to deal with than her lost love.

She starts spotting the man everywhere, but always out of the corner of her eye. There he is, reflected in the window of the grocery store, standing across the street, looking right at her. But when she turns, of course he’s not there.

She thinks she sees him standing among a crowd of people milling at an intersection as she drives by. Always just a flash, gone as soon she turns her head to be sure. Always the same man, with long black hair and pale skin.

She’s not sure at first, though. She’s never actually _seen_ Loki. Just that damned robot of his, burning her town to the ground. She hadn’t _needed_ to see him, thank you very much. 

The few pictures she’d seen of him since, from the battle, and from the bizarre events reported in  Germany, did not leave her feeling better. Mostly blurry and out-of-focus, pictures taken mainly by shaken witnesses holding cell phones in even shakier hands, they nevertheless seemed to match her visions. Pale and dark and tall, and at that point, she does the only thing she can.

She’s a research scientist, after all. So whenever she encounters something she can’t understand, when the pieces of a puzzle are missing, she does what she does best: research. She goes to the library, she looks things up online. She borrows books from Erik, though she doesn’t tell him why. At worst, he’ll think she’s losing it (and she’s not so sure of that fact, herself), and at best…well, what ‘best’ is there? She’s lost Thor, and now she thinks his evil brother is stalking her. Maybe. There’s really nowhere else to go from there, is there?

What she finds out does little to reassure. Loki, father of wolves and serpents, and earthquakes. Oh, and eight-legged horses. A shapeshifter, and connected with the Norse version of Armageddon. A trickster god. A notorious womanizer, with three wives and countless goddesses notched into his bedpost. A god, and a devil.

No, not comforting at all. Still, it’s easy at this point to pretend, to think that maybe it’s just the stress. She’s a scientist, someone who never believed in magic, and in the space of less than six months, everything she’s ever believed has been turned on its ear. So maybe it’s not so crazy that these events are happening to her. Maybe it’s her frazzled mind, hearing strange noises and thinking that someone’s in the room with her, glimpsing a new man in this small town and assigning evil intent to him where none exists.

When he starts to show up in her dreams, though, that’s when Jane really begins to feel actual fear. In the first dream, he says nothing at all. She’s lying on her bed in the tiny, cramped nook that passes for a bedroom in this tin can, and somehow there he is in the corner of the nook. It should not be physically possible for him to stand in front of that particular wall, not without getting jammed between it and the edge of her bed, but there he is. He’s just standing there, glaring down at her, and she can practically feel the menace coming off him in waves. Gone is the suit, the dark tie and scarf. He’s fully armoured now, all black and green and gold, leather and metal. 

In the dream, she clutches the sheets around herself protectively, as useless as that is, but by the time she’s finished the maneuver, he’s already faded into nothing. She wakes up shuddering and shaking, and wonders who she can turn to for help. Even the Avengers can’t save her from a dream.

Perhaps a week later, there he is again, and maybe he’s standing just a fraction closer than the last time, even though she’s sure that’s impossible. She can’t help thinking that he’s rather like a cobra. Coiled in the non-existent corner of her bedroom, glittering darkly, beautiful and utterly deadly. 

Still, she wants to be sure. She’s made a lot of assumptions, and it’s time to test her hypothesis. _Who are you?_

His lip lifts in a snarl. _Surely you know. Did you not spend hours in your precious library, reading all about my misdeeds?_

She’s starting to shiver. He’s been watching her, all right. It’s a dream, she knows it is, but how long will it stay a dream? _Loki._

_ The very same.  _ He sweeps her a mocking bow. _I told my brother that I would have to pay you a visit._

Her hands are icy. _Fine, you’ve come for a ‘visit’. And now you can just go away again._

He laughs darkly, mockingly, shifting even closer somehow. _Why should I go? Thor isn’t here to protect you from me, little mortal._

Shockingly, she’s suddenly more angry than afraid. She’s here dealing with this, and where is _he,_ indeed? Where’s her god of thunder now?

_ Rub it in, why don’t you? _ she retorts, angry and bitter. He blinks at that, looking vaguely surprised. But then his expression hardens again, and he dissolves in a swirl of silver-edged smoke.

Days pass. She continues to see – or thinks she sees - Loki lurking in the corners of her vision again, and once, there’s again that sensation of hot breath curling across the side of her neck, but of course, that’s all there is. A glimpse, a whisper of contact, and then nothing.

_ How can you even be here? _ she demands the next time he appears. _Thor took you prisoner-_

_ Think you that I am so easily held?  _ He leers at her. _What sort of trickster could I claim to be then?_ As usual, he flits away into nothingness and she wakes up with a jolt before she can think up a reply. 

The next time he materializes and laughs mockingly at her, edging ever closer, she decides enough is enough. _Yeah, look at the big powerful god, threatening a defenseless woman,_ she spits at him sarcastically, angry and afraid. Mostly angry, to her surprise. Maybe she’s just getting tired of being the butt of someone else’s joke.

He laughs even louder at that, a malicious light in his eyes. _I’m not threatening anything. I’m_ promising _._

_ Are you going to kill me?  _ She’s not sure she wants to hear the answer, but it pops out of her dream-self’s mouth before she has a chance to edit it out of existence.

_ Kill you? No. Where would be the _ fun _in that?_ He’s gone again. 

Apparently, he’s enjoying this chase, if she can call it that, far too much to end it anytime soon. And as the days pass, a truly bizarre thing begins to happen. She’s afraid, yes, but also strangely…flattered? She can’t remember a time in her life up until now, when she was ever the focus of a man’s attention like this. 

Not in high school. She wasn’t a blonde, and she hadn’t had big boobs. She’d been the typical nerdy kid, nose in a book, even wearing thick-rimmed glasses. Boys had barely glanced her way. 

Even as an adult, the few boyfriends she’d had time for, they’d always had other things in their lives more important than her.

Case in point: Donald Blake, who’d also had far more important things to do than pay all, or even most, of his attention to one Jane Foster. She’d thought Thor would be different, he’d seemed so old-fashioned, so chivalrous. But apparently he had bigger fish to fry, too.

Fast forward back to now, and Loki’s presence seems all around her now, every day. Either awake or in her dreams, even when she doesn’t see him, she feels him there, and it’s threatening, nerve-wracking. But there’s also the strange feeling, almost of gratification, that someone is actually paying attention to her, focused entirely on her, for the first time that she can remember…. _Christ, I’m going insane. Or is this some new form of mind-control of his?_ She does her best to push the unwanted feelings aside _._

The next time he shows up in her dreams, he’s towering over the side of her bed, the moonlight sliding caressingly along the ornate designs on his armour. Jane realizes she’s less afraid of him now. He keeps showing up, but he hasn’t _done_ anything except threaten and laugh. Maybe it’s all talk. Rattle her cage, and see if Thor comes running? Maybe he’s even in prison in Asgard, and this is all he can do.

_ Why don’t you tell the truth for once? _ she challenges him. _Why are you here?_

He smirks and leans down (even though there’s not enough room for that), putting himself at her eye-level, placing both hands on her bed. _Watch your tone, mortal._ Small green snakes uncurl themselves from each of his wrists and drop down. They slither and slide over the dunes of her bedsheets, moving towards her. She’s not the world’s biggest fan of snakes, but she knows this is still a dream. Instead of panicking, Jane focuses on his face, on his eyes, though she can’t help but notice they’re the exact same shade as his snakes. 

_ Make no mistake, Jane Foster, _ he says softly. Somehow, he seems miles away, and yet still close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. _I’m a god, and you’re nothing. I_ could _kill you._

The snakes vanish, but Jane barely notices, too focused on Loki’s face, the thin, midnight strands of hair falling over his forehead. _Then why don’t you? And don’t tell me it’s more ‘_ fun’ _not to._

It’s probably dangerous to push him, but it occurs to her suddenly that if he finds this… _whatever_ it is that’s he’s doing with her so amusing, that alone might guarantee her safety from him.

_ I  _ could _kill you_ , he repeats, leaning in even closer. _But I have a better idea. Instead, I’ll make you mine. My slave. You’re going to give me everything you gave_ him, _and more. Far more._

It’s so absurd that she’s startled into laughing, and Loki, no doubt surprised to find a weak and puny mortal laughing at _him,_ pulls away to his customary impossible location and goes back to glaring angrily.

_ A kiss… was all… I gave him,  _ she elaborates between guffaws. She’s not even sure why she finds this so funny. Maybe it’s because Loki has obviously so greatly overestimated how close she and Thor had been. Maybe it’s some kind of hysteria, her sanity finally cracking under the weight of all the crazy things that have happened. Maybe she just doesn’t want to face the implications of the other things he just said (His _slave_?). It doesn’t matter; she laughs until the tears stream down her cheeks, and through it all, Loki just stands and watches, his puzzlement becoming more and more obvious. 

When her giggles finally subside, he’s still standing there, much to her surprise. He’s usually disappeared in his puff of silver smoke by now. She decides to go on the offensive. She’s tired of her role as helpless plaything of the Norse gods. _If_ you _want a kiss, come and get it._ Usually she’s awkward around men, unable to meet their gaze, often painfully shy. The more she’s interested in someone, the worse it gets. Certainly, telling some guy to ‘Come and get it, big boy?’ That has never happened, never will likely happen in a million years, not in her real life. But this is a dream, not real life, and she isn’t worried about embarrassing herself in front of Loki-

She doesn’t see him move. One second he’s there in the corner, and in less than an eyeblink he’s right on top of her, straddling her on the bed, his face mere inches from hers. _I wouldn’t tease, if I were you, Jane,_ he purrs, quiet and deadly. _You have no idea what I am capable of doing to you._ She hears snakes hiss, but she doesn’t look away from him.

Her heart is racing, her blood pulsing in her veins. Is it just fear, or is it something more? 

Speechless, she waits, wondering what comes next, what to say. Perhaps predictably, he spares her the trouble, dissolving away into smoke.

She jerks awake, and at first she’s very confused, and almost embarrassed to realize how aroused she is.

It’s insane, utterly insane. He’s handsome, yes, but he’s also a murderer, hatred personified, and probably missing a marble or three….not to mention the whole ‘world domination’ thing. Despite his words to the contrary, he’d probably be very happy to take her life the moment she crosses some arbitrary imagined line.

She keeps repeating these facts to herself over and over in the days that follow, but it doesn’t change the feeling of warmth in her belly. _Definitely going insane._

In her lab, she stares at her whiteboard, gazes blankly at her computer screens, but she may as well be staring at the walls. She has a different equation to figure out now, one unrelated to astrophysics and alternative power sources for Einstein-Rosen bridges.

It takes a few days to figure this particular problem out, but once she finally admits the truth to herself, it makes more sense. The key problem: How someone so threatening and dangerous can in fact turn her on.

Reluctantly, she finally accepts the only solution that makes sense: If she’s honest with herself, there’s a part of her that’s always been attracted to ‘dangerous’ men. The ‘cool’ boys who’d worn leather jackets and smoked behind the gym at high school, though none of them had given her a second look (and often, not even a first one). A boyfriend during her bachelor years who’d had enough tattoos to strip down to the skin, call himself an art gallery, and charge admission. 

Even Dr. Donald Blake had worn a leather jacket and ridden a motorcycle, and before his interest in her had waned, one of the things she’d most enjoyed doing had been pretending to herself that he was rougher, darker than he’d actually been. It had only happened in her fantasies, though. Donald had turned out to be about as vanilla as they come.

Even Thor, though he hadn’t exactly come across as _dangerous_ , not with all the courtly hand-kissing and formalized speech. But he’d been a big man, a physically powerful man, a man with the potential to pick her up, overpower her, make her _his_.

More than just being with someone, deep down she realizes that she wants to feel desired, wants to be _taken_ by someone. To feel for the first time that someone wants her that badly.

It sounds like a cheesy romance novel, once she finally puts it all together, but that doesn’t make it any less true. 

The worst of it is, that Loki fits the bill exactly. He’s not some ‘cut’ caveman like Thor, but he’s tall and broad-shouldered and not hard on the eyes, not at all, at least when he isn’t looking at her like he wants to slice her into bloody ribbons. 

Definitely not just a hint of danger. 

_ You have no idea what I am capable of doing to you. _

No, she doesn’t know. But the thing is, she thinks she wants to. 

She gets herself ready for bed, wondering if he’ll visit her again tonight. She finds herself looking critically at her camisole and boyshorts, almost wishing she had developed the habit of sleeping in something…well, sexier. She brushes her hair out and leaves it loose, instead of braiding it like she usually does. She stares at herself in the mirror, and wonders what the Hell has happened to her, sitting here and trying to pretend to herself that she’s not preening like she’s about to go on a first date. 

Finally Jane climbs into bed, turns out the lights, and stares in the direction that he tends to appear in the most. After a few long minutes of silence and darkness, she shakes her head at herself, feeling like an idiot. _He probably won’t even show up. Maybe he won’t even show up again._ She’s not sure which option she’d prefer, out of the many possible paths her experience with Loki could take from here. 

She closes her eyes and pulls the sheets up to her chest. She allows herself to start to drift, unfocused images and fragments of Loki’s face weaving across the backs of her eyelids.

Blinding light suddenly fills the room, and Jane gasps and sits up, hands clapped to her face to shield her eyes.

The light goes out, and she’s in the dark again.

But not alone.

“Dr. Foster. _Jane_ Foster,” the now-familiar voice purrs silkily, and it sounds just as intimidating as it did in her dreams. The light overhead suddenly snaps itself on, and when her eyes adjust, there he is, in the entrance of the sleeping nook, looming over her, smug and smirking. 

It must be real. She can hear the leather creak as he shifts, taking a slow step forward. “So nice to finally meet in person. I’ve been looking forward to this day.”

Oh God, her throat is so dry. The words he’s said to her before whisper in her ears. 

_ I’ll make you mine. My slave. You’re going to give me everything you gave  _ him, _and more. Far more. You don’t know what I am capable of doing to you._

Unless she can talk her way out of this mess, it looks like she’s about to find out.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Battle of Manhattan, Thor never returns from Asgard, and a threatening Loki starts appearing to Jane….and now he’s here in person. My smutty take on the whole ‘Maybe when this is over, I’ll pay her a visit’ thing from ‘Thor’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: A sincere thank you to my lovely and talented beta, canyr12. Loki demands that you kneel and compose hymns to her greatness.  
> Disclaimer: Still don’t own the characters. In fact, I’m pretty sure by this point that Loki owns ME (not that I mind)!
> 
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> Banner courtesy of the lovely **cincoflex**!

Jane wants to shrink back, get away from Loki, but there’s nowhere to go. She’s trapped. He leers at her, obviously enjoying the moment.

“But where _are_ my manners?” he says, his words so melodious she almost forgets to be afraid, even as he starts to shift even closer. “I am Loki of Asgard, and-“ His shoulder bumps against the wall, and he pauses and glares darkly at the close confines of her trailer. “How do you survive in this ale-barrel of a dwelling?” he asks with contempt.

“It’s more of a temporary living situation,” Jane squeaks automatically, thinking how much more terrifying this situation is, compared to the last time she uttered those very same words to someone.

Loki shakes his head slowly. “Well, this won’t do at all.” The blinding light returns, threaded through with green lightning. It fills the trailer, her eyes and her her mind. Jane blinks frantically, but there’s nothing to see but bright green haze and fog. 

There’s a mild jolt, and she finds herself standing on her own two feet. She still can’t see anything, but she’s not in her trailer anymore; she can feel carpeting under her bare feet. She rubs her eyes, willing them to clear, certain that Loki’s going to grab her any second, but when her vision finally clears, he’s standing across the room from her.

And it _is_ a room. It looks, in fact, like a motel room. There’s the carpet, a bed right next to her with an ugly floral pattern on the covering, a television on a battered table in the corner. Loki is studying their surroundings, an obvious expression of disgust on his face. After a long moment he shakes his head and mutters something Jane doesn’t quite catch, something about mortals having no clue how to live, but then he’s walking towards her again, and Jane starts looking for an escape route. Oh crap, the door is behind Loki, she’ll have to get by him somehow to escape-

“Where was I?” he asks, his customary smirk reappearing. “Ah yes. I was going to say: You were made to be ruled, Jane Foster. You require a firm hand, and I am more than willing to accept the burden.” He edges ever so slowly closer and closer, and Jane feels almost hypnotized by his motions, by the rhythm of his words. “I’m only too pleased to start here and now.” He stops, far enough away that Jane would _just_ be able to touch him if she stretched out her hand. Jane’s heart pounds, and she can feel sweat starting to roll down her sides. 

Loki looks her straight in the eye, his eyes blazing. “Kneel before me!”

Jane can’t move. Hell, she can barely catch her breath. She can’t remember a time when she’s been this afraid. Had she really looked forward to _this_? What the Hell is the matter with her?

_ Do what he says, before he hurts you, _ her brain gibbers at her, but her knees are locked and nothing happens. Her body won’t obey her, let alone _him_.

He frowns, and although Jane is no expert at reading facial expressions, he seems almost surprised. He takes another half step forward, and he’s too close, way too close to her now, he seems to be swallowing all the light and air in the room, and Jane wonders almost absently if she’s about to faint.

His hand brushes her cheek, lightly, but Jane suddenly finds herself able to move after all, jerking away as if he’s burned her. The side of her thigh hits the edge of the night-table and, predictably, she both knocks a lamp over, and trips and falls on her ass. _Undignified, as always._ _Looks like I’ll die the way I lived,_ she thinks bitterly.

The lamp is doing its best to roll off the night-table, but Loki catches it, his frown deeper now. He sets it back in its place, then looks down at her.

“Hm, _not_ fun,” he mutters, or at least, that’s what she thinks she hears. It’s hard to be sure, over the pounding of the blood in her ears. _He sure has a fucked-up sense of what is ‘fun’,_ Jane can’t help thinking. His eyes meet hers again. “Why do you cower? I thought you understood this game.”

_ What? _ “Game? _Game?_ ” Jane retorts, her voice rising. She clenches her fists. “Monopoly, that’s a _game_. Scrabble is a _game._ ” 

Loki cocks his head, the confusion obvious. He must be mocking her, being deliberately obtuse. “Don’t be a dick,” she sputters. “You come here and threaten me, you tell me that you have some kind of evil plans for me, then you yank me out of my home and dump me God knows where….and now you’re _shocked_ that I’m scared? You _are_ crazy!” 

He smiles, and it’s surprisingly disarming. “I had planned nothing that you would not have thoroughly _enjoyed_ , Jane Foster.” He winks – actually winks! – and then reaches down and effortlessly pulls her to her feet. 

This ‘game’ of his doesn’t make sense to Jane. Or does it? She’s not sure how she thought this would go, but it isn’t unfolding in any way she could have envisioned.

His hand is very large and warm around hers, his grip looser now. He’s still smiling, but it’s oddly gentle, almost regretful. “My sincerest apologies, Lady.” Loki bends over and presses soft lips to the backs of her fingers, though he seems to linger longer than necessary. When he straightens up, the smirk is firmly back in place. “Apparently, I have much to learn about Midgardian women.”

Jane opens her mouth, but can’t think of a single thing to say. She’s still trying to figure out what exactly is going on here.

Loki glances around. “It’s a sad little room, but marginally better than your ‘temporary living situation’. Enjoy it for the evening, with my compliments.” He releases her hand, finally, backing away and tipping her a little bow, one that reminds her all too easily of Thor. “Fare thee well, Dr. Foster.”

She blinks, and he’s gone. No light or fanfare, just gone. 

It takes her an hour to stop shaking.

*~*~*

_ Good riddance, _she tells herself. Repeatedly.

She leans over her pages of calculations, Darcy’s voice droning on in the background as she describes some new boytoy of hers. Jane isn’t hearing a single word, though she manages to make approving noises during the brief lulls in Darcy’s monologue.

Not wanting to risk angering Loki, she’d spent the rest of the night in that room, and sadly, yes, it _had_ been more comfortable than her own tiny bed. Although she’d worried that he might show up again, attacking her in her sleep, finally she’d been too exhausted to resist going to bed. In the end, all her fears had been for nothing - nothing had happened. 

She remembers also being a bit afraid of what she would find when she left the motel room. Had Loki teleported her halfway around the world from Puente Antiguo? But she’d recognized the place’s owner when she’d finally worked up the nerve to leave the room and go downstairs, and it turned out he had merely transported them to the town’s single motel. Jane had never stayed at the motel before, so she hadn’t recognized it at first, and she hadn’t even thought to look out the room’s single window to identify where she was. Even more surprising, Loki had somehow arranged to pay the bill! The whole thing was bizarre.

But now it’s been over a week, and Loki has vanished from her dreams, from her life. She’s no longer feeling his presence, no longer seeing him at the edges of her vision. She should be ecstatic, right?

Except she isn’t. It’s like a pebble in her shoe, bugging her as she tries to get her life back to normal. Even now, she can close her eyes and picture him, the predatory grace with which he moved. She can hear his voice in her head like some kind of strange music.

It’s completely insane. She should be throwing herself an ‘I’m-free-of-Loki’ party. But the truth is, she’s curious. A necessary quality for a scientist, but maybe not so much here. She keeps wondering where his ‘game’ would have ended up. _Nothing I wouldn’t have thoroughly_ enjoyed _?_ It sounds like so much macho bullshit, when she repeats it (over and over) to herself like that, but then again, he obviously believed it. _The myths say he’s a womanizer,_ she reminds herself. _That suggests he does know how to please a woman. Doesn’t it?_

Her traitorous memory keeps returning to the way his fingers had felt, wrapped around hers. She finds herself flexing her hand at odd moments, remembering the feel of his kiss. The way his lips had brushed so lightly against her skin, just before settling down to the business of kissing, and – although maybe her befuddled brain is totally making this all up – had there perhaps been just the tiniest touch of the tip of his tongue against her knuckle, before he’d pulled away?

Jane keeps thinking that kiss on her hand was almost like an advertisement: This is what my lips feel like on your hand. Imagine what my kiss might feel like….on other parts of you. And Jane is doing her best to _not_ think about that. Failing miserably at it, yes, but doing her best. 

In short, it’s all driving her crazy. She finds herself looking for him constantly, feeling disappointed when he’s never there. 

Finally, she decides that she’s reached her limit. Which leads to a new problem: How is she going to contact him, exactly? Nokia doesn’t have trans-dimensional long-distance to Asgard. If Loki’s even there. 

Of course, this inevitably leads her to realize that she has the exact same problem with Thor: she can’t contact him, can’t find out why he broke his promise to her. But Jane soon pushes all Thor-related thoughts out of her mind. Things with Loki are complicated enough already, and she doesn’t need to add guilt into the picture. Not that she’s sure what she has to feel guilty about. 

Instead, she forces herself back to the problem at hand, which is contacting Loki. It occurs to Jane that maybe, in fact, Loki is still here on Earth. Maybe he’s even still in  New Mexico . He obviously can make her see him, sense him, if he wants her to, so is it possible that he can make her _not_ see him, even when he is there? She hopes so, because that’s the only way her plan will work.

Her next problem is the venue. He hadn’t been impressed by her trailer, but the motel room hadn’t been a vast improvement. She lives out in the middle of nowhere, though, and she’s not sure she wants to drive for hours, find a place, and then have him not show up. Besides, if he _is_ still watching her, wouldn’t her best bet to contact him be in the place where she saw and interacted with him the most? 

Besides, it’s familiar territory, and right now a bit part of Jane feels she needs that. She wants this, but it kind of scares her, too. She’s never done anything like this before, and she thinks she needs all the familiarity, all the safety, that she can get.

Finally, there’s the small matter of…well, what to wear, as silly and girly as that is. Jane decides she wants to send a message this time, but she has nothing really sexy in her underwear drawer. Again, she’d have to drive for miles just to find a place to buy something. She looks at a few online vendors, but imagining herself wearing this or that scrap of lace seems really…not her. Had Loki even seemed to care about that? In the end, she decides she should just be herself. Trying to dress up like some sultry seductress is not her, and it seems like a good way to just increase her natural awkwardness. 

When she decides she’s ready to attempt contact, the butterflies in her stomach multiply until she can’t focus on anything else. Erik asks her if she’s feeling OK, and Darcy gives her strange looks, so Jane makes excuses and heads out to the trailer early, cooking a supper that she can barely swallow, and she waits for the sun to set. 

She stands outside the trailer for a few long moments, staring up at the stars, wondering if Loki is up there, and if he’ll hear her.

When she climbs into bed, dressed in a camisole and panties, she’s shaking all over again, but this time it’s nervous energy and excitement. Which is ridiculous, really, when she stops and considers _who_ she’s excited about, but this stopped making logical sense a long time ago, and Jane figures she’s just going to roll with it.

_ Here goes. _ “Loki,” she says out loud. She prays hard that he _is_ here, that he’ll hear her somehow. 

Nothing. She says his name again, louder. More nothing.

Her heart sinks, and she’s starting to feel like an idiot. If she yells at the top of her lungs, will someone hear her? Will they think she’s lost it?

“Loki!” she calls, almost as loud as she can yell. That’s all she can manage to do, without feeling even more stupid. 

More nothing happens again, and Jane curses and climbs out of bed. _Stupid. This whole thing is stupid. He’s gone,_ long _gone, and why do I want this so bad, anyways?_

She stomps into the kitchen and opens the fridge, bending down to lift the milk out of the bottom of the crammed door. Maybe if she drinks some warm milk, it’ll help her sleep. Tomorrow, maybe she’ll think of something else. Or, maybe she’ll drop this whole crazy idea. 

As she straightens up and shuts the fridge, something shifts at the edge of her vision. Loki is there, standing in the entrance to the sleeping nook. Watching her. Startled, Jane yelps and drops the milk. The carton manages not to break, and that’s the first stroke of good luck she’s had. Or rather, the second: Loki did answer her call, after all.

He’s in his armour still, his arms folded over his chest, and one eyebrow is raised as he watches her scoop up the deeply dented milk carton and shove it into a cabinet. Jane wrenches her eyes off him, nervous all over again. _Something’s wrong. Oh-_ “Oh wait, that doesn’t go there-“ She bites her lip and retrieves the milk, returning it to the fridge.  


“You summoned me,” Loki says without preamble. “Explain yourself, woman.” He looks angry, and Jane tries not to shiver.

Jane has rehearsed this in her mind about a hundred times over the last couple of days, and decides to go with her preferred opening gambit: “I want to know what changed your mind.”

“You dare summon me back for an _interrogation_?” he voice shifts to a hiss and he takes a long step towards her, but Jane squeezes her fists shut and holds her ground.

“I want to know what changed your mind,” she repeats.

He rolls his eyes. “From what to what?” he asks irritably, turning away from her and studying the mugs in her dishrack with more attention than seems warranted.

“You were angry. And no matter what you say now, I think you did want to hurt me-“

“Who says I won’t now?” he snarls, and then he’s standing right in front of her, looming over her. Christ, he’s tall. 

“You won’t,” Jane says, though she’s not really sure why she’s so sure of that. Somehow, her voice isn’t shaking. She looks him pointedly in the eyes. “I think you did want to hurt me at first, but now you aren’t going to. I want to know _why_.”

He laughs and turns away from her again. “You don’t know me well enough to feel so assured of my clemency.”

Jane folds her arms and tries out her own glare against him. “Answer the damned question.”

He stalks around the narrow confines of her kitchen, looking anywhere but at her. “Fine,” he says finally, gazing out a window, rather than at her. “Hate.”

Jane blinks, not expecting that reply, and not understanding it, either. “What?”

“Hate,” he repeats, looking over at her and smirking again. He obviously enjoys being cryptic. “You hate Thor. For abandoning you. Not, perhaps, as much as I hate him, but it’s something. Everyone in Asgard loves that dull idiot, they’re all too stupid to see how irresponsible a king he would make. Whereas they treat _me_ like-“ He stops, shaking his head.

“Anyways, I think you Midgardians say, ‘mine enemy’s enemy is my friend’, so,” he shrugs. He walks back in front of her, and cups her chin in his hand, pulling her face up until he can look her in the eyes. “I’ve answered your question, mortal, now you answer one of mine. Why did you summon me?”

Jane’s not sure what to say, exactly, and it’s hard to think when he’s this close to her. Her brain wants to focus instead on the feeling of his warm hand, the scent of leather, the colour of his eyes….

Finally, she decides to follow his lead: Be cryptic. “Because I wanted to,” she says. Let him puzzle that out. Besides, it’s the truth.

He lets go of her and paces slowly around the perimeter of the kitchen again, obviously thinking over her answer. His elbow catches the edge of the dishrack, almost knocking it off the counter, and Loki tsks and straightens it. 

He turns to face her. “What else do you want?” he finally asks in a low voice, one that seems to slip caressingly down her spine.

Jane’s not sure what to say. She’s never been good at this part, at just coming out and telling someone what she wants and needs, period. Never mind in the bedroom, which is where she thinks this is bound to wind up.

In the end, she just says what she thinks he wants to hear: “I want to be yours.” Maybe he’ll see it as a cop-out, maybe he wants her to talk dirty, to be _very_ specific about what she wants him to do to her, and how. But again, she’s saying only the truth. _If that even matters to a God of Lies._

He gives her a long, intent look. “Then you _will_ be. Mine, and mine alone. Do you understand?”

She nods, and the green light comes, washing out her vision, but she expects it this time, almost relaxing into it. It seems to take longer than before, and it feels like they are indeed going farther away this time.

The new room they wind up in is definitely a big improvement. _Got to be a penthouse room,_ Jane thinks. The bed is huge, the windows are wall-to-wall, and there’s a beach miles away. Oh, and it’s daytime. Just how far did he bring her?

But Loki’s standing in front of her again, and Jane doesn’t have time to think about the practicalities, not anymore. He moves forward, slowly and inexorably herding her backwards, until her back is to the wall and there’s nowhere left to escape to. Not that she has any plans in that direction. She feels dwarfed by him, and finds herself unable to look into his eyes. “I’ll be taking that kiss now,” he says at last, a rasping note on the edge of his voice.

He picks her up like she weighs nothing (to him, she probably doesn’t), leaning in and pressing her back against the wall. Her feet dangle helplessly, and she clutches at his armour, wrapping one hand around the belt slung over his right shoulder, and the other hand around the green lapel of his…whatever it is. Dreamily, Jane thinks that the first thing she should do when she gets home, is educate herself on what the different parts of his armour are called.

His leather-clad thigh shoves roughly between hers, holding her up and pinning her in place, his hands on her ribs, fingers moving in small circles against her sides. She wonders if he can hear how fast her heart is beating. 

Loki licks his lips slowly, making sure she witnesses it, and then he leans in, but some impulse makes Jane turn away slightly, so that his mouth ends up on the edge of her jaw. She feels him grin against her, his breath heating her skin, and she shudders. He nips her, then moves lower, and Jane feels sharp teeth on her neck. She clutches tighter at his armour, gasping. 

He laughs darkly, sending shivers through her. “Making me work for it, are you? Foolish woman.” His hands come up and seize her wrists, raising her arms high above her head and pinning them to the wall. Jane squeezes her thighs around his, writhing, unable to stop herself. Part of her wants to conceal how much she’s enjoying this, though she’s not sure why.

But Loki notices, of course. Jane doesn’t think much gets by the God of Mischief. Especially not if he can use it to his advantage. He shifts his grip, trapping her wrists in one large hand. His other hand slides down her arm in a soft caress, and then he wraps his fingers in her hair. He’s gentle at first, but once he’s taken up the slack, his grip turns forceful, pulling her face back towards his.

His kiss is rough, urgent, and though there’s a brief moment of discomfort when his teeth scrape against hers, Jane doesn’t care. He tastes like salt and iron, and a bit like wine. She wonders if he likes the flavour of her toothpaste. She doesn’t think anyone has ever kissed her like this, so passionately and thoroughly. Like he can’t get enough of her. His tongue is like a snake, slipping over her tongue, caressing along the backs of her teeth, and Jane squeezes her thighs around his again. Her nipples harden in anticipation as his hand leaves her hair, fingertips tracing down the side of her neck, along her collarbone, and then down to the top edge of her camisole.

He breaks the kiss, and Jane drags in a ragged breath. She feels something move against her wrists, but it doesn’t feel like his hand. She looks up, her breath catching when she realizes there’s a snake, a _real_ snake, gliding from Loki’s wrist, slipping around both of hers. 

“What are you-?” Jane gasps. 

He laughs, and it sounds positively evil. His free hand continues its journey down, stopping and squeezing her nipple sharply through the fabric of her camisole, and Jane arches her back and moans, almost forgetting about the snake. “I’m merely making sure I have both hands free to torment you with,” he purrs roughly into her ear. 

Jane feels the snake wind itself firmly around her wrists, two, three times, then there’s another green flash of light in the room. It leaves purple after-impressions on her vision, but when she blinks them away and looks up, she sees that the snake has turned itself into some kind of thick snakeskin cuff. A hook that Jane is positive hadn’t been there on the wall before has also popped into being, and Loki wastes no time hooking the homemade cuff onto that. Jane realizes she is totally at his mercy.  

“There,” Loki continues, gloating. “I enjoy listening to the sounds you make when you surrender to me.” He pulls hard at the top of her camisole, and both straps tear like they are made of paper. He pulls the fabric down to Jane’s waist, and she can’t help squirming, feeling completely exposed.

He kisses her again, his tongue pushing hard into her mouth, both hands cupping her breasts, though he doesn’t touch her nipples. But she can feel his armour against them as he presses closer, the leather rubbing oh so slightly against her sensitive nipples, and she moans again, into his mouth, trying not to dig her fingernails into her own palms.

He breaks the kiss, and looks down, watching her body’s response when he does touch her, firmly squeezing and tugging on her stiff nipples. Jane bites her lip and throws her head back as much as she can, twisting her head against her trapped arms, thighs flexing helplessly around the iron muscle of his leg. She’s sure that she’s leaving wet marks on his thigh. “Oh God,” she gasps, not even aware what she’s saying. 

“Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing,” he mocks, before scraping his teeth along her neck. Jane swallows another gasp as he slides his hands under her thighs, lifting her up off his leg. The tension in her bonds somehow doesn’t change, there’s no room for escape, as he lifts her high enough that he can bend his dark head to her breast. Jane tenses, somehow sure that he’s going to nip, and she’s not sure if she wants him to or not, or how hard. 

He doesn’t, but he sucks on her almost hard enough to hurt. But it’s a _good_ hurt, and Jane squirms again, very conscious of how close his hands are to discovering just how aroused she is. Loki accords her other nipple the same attention, then pulls away, blowing lightly on her moist skin, chuckling as she continues to squirm and moan. It seems to be all she can do, but if he’s enjoying her responses, maybe it’s not something Jane should be worrying about.

Jane bites her lip, trying not to beg him not to stop, as he lets her back down onto his leg, her bonds again seamlessly adjusting. His hands slide slowly up her thighs. “You won’t be needing this rag any longer,” he growls, his fingers slipping under each side of her panties, tracing small circles over her hot skin. She can’t see exactly what he’s doing, his broad shoulders are blocking her view, but she feels a sharp tug and hears a tearing sound. Jane shuts her eyes, feeling him pull the last of her meager protection away. She’s totally exposed, totally naked, and completely helpless. 

“Look at me,” Loki snarls, and Jane looks into his eyes, which seem more blue than green right now. His hands are on her again, shifting her so that she’s no longer resting on his leg, but with her thighs splayed wide, his hands cupped under each of her knees.

Small beads of sweat glimmer on his face and neck, and Jane doesn’t know how he can stand wearing all that leather; she’s completely naked and yet she feels like she’s going to go up in flames any second. She’s even more certain of that when he hooks his thigh back under one of her knees, then slides his hand right between her legs. 

Jane gasps at the contact, his fingers slipping sensuously against her folds. She can feel how slick she is, and she can’t help shuddering and moaning all over again. Loki leans in, his hair brushing softly against her face like raven’s feathers. “You’re so wet…your body knows its master, I see,” he says in a low voice. Jane blushes and bites her lip, not sure what to say, or even if a reply is necessary. His fingers slip inside her, invading her, stretching her, his tongue circling her earlobe.   

Jane doesn’t know how many of his fingers are inside her, only that his movements soon become rough and fast, thrusting hard in and out of her. Then he’s licking the side of her neck, and at the end of every thrust of his hand, his thumb is pushing hard against her aching clit, and within seconds there’s nothing she can do except throw her head back and ride his hand, panting hard and trying to remember to _breathe_.

She’s right on the edge when his thrusts become deliberately slow, and she can feel him grinning against the side of her neck. “Beg me, Jane,” he purrs, laughing as her hips buck, trying to get him to move faster again. “Convince me, and I might just allow you to experience the heights of your pleasure.”

_Might?_ Jane hopes that’s just another of Loki’s empty threats. She licks her dry lips, tries to get her throat to work. “Please.” The word _Master_ won’t come out, though she tries hard, because Loki would probably respond well to that, megalomaniac that he is. But it just won’t come out. Blame it on her inner militant feminist.

“What?” he asks, mockingly. His fingers slide out of her a little, and Jane moans and tries to pull her legs together, trap him inside her, but he’s too strong and she can’t move.

“Please,” she tries again, and then, on sheer instinct. “Please, _Loki._ ”

“Much better,” he growls approvingly, and he sinks his teeth into the side of her neck. Jane yelps, but it turns into a gasp as his fingers shove deep inside her again, and he whips her right back to the precipice with a speed that nearly kills her. 

“Yessss,” he hisses encouragingly in her ear, and she goes over the edge, her muscles spasming helplessly, biting her lip so she won’t scream. When it’s all over, her head drops heavily forward, her forehead resting on Loki’s shoulder for a moment. His fingers withdraw slowly from her, her inner muscles reluctant to let him go. It’s been awhile, a long while, and even taking that into account, Jane doesn’t think it’s ever been as good as this. “Thank you,” she says, almost without realizing she’s saying it. 

“I don’t recall saying that I was done with you yet,” he mocks, right into her ear. He releases her and backs away entirely, and for a moment she’s hanging limply against the wall, her wrists taking her full weight. Sluggish, it takes her an eternity to realize what he just said.

Her bonds dissolve without warning, and Jane slides down the wall, but before she can pitch bonelessly to the floor, Loki catches her, moving like a striking snake. He lifts her in his arms, and then effortlessly, almost casually, tosses her onto the huge bed. 

Jane clears her throat, tries to get her arms and legs to work properly, but they are putting up a good show of resistance. “I need a minute,” she tries to explain to him. “You may be a god, but I’m not, and if you want me to be able to do anything, I need some recovery time.”

He stands by the bed, not looking at her, too busy stripping off the outermost layer of his armour, but after he casts it aside, he runs his hand through his hair, messing it up in an endearing way, and turns towards her.

Loki shakes his head, the familiar teasing smirk gracing his face again. “I don’t require you to do anything.” He grasps her hips and pulls her to the edge of the bed, then he kneels down on the floor, letting her legs drape over his arms. The smirk becomes a leer. “Except come for me. Again.”

He licks a wet path up her thigh, and Jane digs her nails into the quilt. It’s too soon after her first orgasm, she’s too sensitive, but he’s got her hips in a grip strong as iron, his broad shoulders keeping her legs far apart. She can’t pull away, can’t escape the almost too-intense pleasure washing over her. Jane clutches at his shoulders, digging her nails into the leather, but he only pauses for a moment. His eyes laugh at her. “People are always telling me I have a silver tongue,” he remarks. 

It’s only a brief respite, though. Her hips buck helplessly under his hands as his tongue goes back to circling her clit, around and around in agonizing circles. When he sucks on it, she bites back a squeal and tangles her fingers in his hair, but he’s not having any of that. 

Grinning evilly, he grabs her wrists again, pulling her hands from his hair and pinning them to her belly all too easily with one hand. “You’re not in control, my dear,” he chides her mockingly. It loses a little sting when his mouth and chin are shiny with her juices, though. Then he’s back to his ministrations between her legs, one hand and his forearm keeping her thighs wide apart. 

It’s too much, the pleasure right on the edge of becoming pain, and this time she _does_ scream. Loudly. 

When Jane can get her eyes to focus again, Loki’s standing over her, slowly wiping his chin with the palm of his hand. _Christ, is he done?  I don’t think I can handle another-_      

He laughs softly, looking down at her, but he doesn’t seem to be laughing at her. “My dear brother should have taken you when he had the chance. Fool. Instead, I am the one who gets to enjoy all you have to offer.” Deliberately holding her gaze, he licks his palm in a way that probably would turn her on all over again….if she hadn’t just had two intense orgasms. He leans down over her, a mock serious expression on his face, his voice dropping lower, like what he’s about to say next is meant to be a private matter, just between Jane and himself: “Though for the record, from what I understand from the gossip, let us say that his abilities in the bedroom are not as expert as my own. Mjölnir may help him win battles against foes, but not many battles between sheets!” he laughs, obviously pleased with himself.   
  
_This jealousy of Thor can’t be healthy,_ Jane thinks. She’ll have to talk to Loki about it. Just…not now.

He’s still wearing most of his armour, and the incongruity of it suddenly hits Jane like a bucket of ice-water. “Are you going to take all that stuff off? How are you not dying of heat right now?” He’s definitely sweating, and perhaps there’s even a pale flush of colour in his cheeks. Jane finds it a bit comforting, though, that he’s enough like mortals to at least sweat. 

Loki’s eyes darken, and the commanding expression returns to his face. “Silence,” he rasps. He reaches down, grabbing her by the shoulders and rolling her roughly over onto her belly. “I did not give you leave to speak,” he chides her coldly, but before she can be tempted to backtalk him, there’s a rustle of cloth, and then he’s jerking her up onto her knees, and she can feel the hot length of him pressing against her thigh. 

_There’s something I’m forgetting,_ Jane realizes suddenly. _Something important….oh crap!_ “Wait!” Jane says, trying to shift away from him. 

His hands tighten around her hips, preventing any escape, and Jane twists around to look back at him over her shoulder. He’s looking at her like he can’t believe she’s stalling. “I rather think,” he opines with deceptive mildness, “that I have more than earned the right to-“

“It’s not that,” Jane interrupts him. She doesn’t know if Asgardians and Midgardians can breed, but she’s not about to risk her career to find out. “I- I do want you to. But we need _protection_.”

His eyebrows practically disappear into his hairline. “Protection? What nonsense is this? My brother, as you have no doubt noticed, is not here to….interrupt us.” His voice shifts into a low growl, and he pulls her hard against him, grinding his erection into the back of her thigh. “And there is no force in Yggdrasil that will protect you from _me_.”

“It’s a human - _Midgardian_ \- thing,” Jane explains quickly. “It’s called a condom. We use it to prevent pregnancy. There’s at least one in my trailer….at home. Oh crap.” _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ This is either going to ruin the mood totally…or maybe Loki isn’t going to oblige her, a thought which makes her hands go cold. Why didn’t she think of this earlier? She thought of everything else-  

Loki lets go of her, clearly aggravated, then disappears in a green flash. He’s back again almost as quickly, between one heartbeat and the next, tossing a box on the bed. “I trust these will do.” It’s not the brand she uses, so he must have hit up a pharmacy in the area.

“Those should be fine,” Jane says. She can’t help noticing that he didn’t bother to zip up before leaving, and she hopes he didn’t give some poor human the shock of their lives. _At least he’s still, um,_ excited _._

“Good,” he says, twisting a handful of her brown hair around his hand. He uses his grip on her hair to pull her face towards his, until he can speak directly into her ear.  “But I’m going to make you pay dearly for delaying my pleasure, woman,” he continues in a hiss that makes her shiver. He gestures at the box. “Be quick about it.”

Jane swallows a little nervously as she rolls the condom onto him _. Pay dearly?_ He’s still wearing most of that damned armour, and it’s becoming obvious that he has no intention of stripping down totally for her. 

When Jane is done, he releases his grip on her hair. “Now get on your knees, and face away from me.” She does, and he makes her wait on all fours for what seems like forever, before his hands grasp her shoulders and push her face and upper body down into the mattress, pulling her hands tightly behind her back. 

She doesn’t expect him to start by pushing slowly into her, millimeter by millimeter, but Loki obviously is enjoying every second of it, to judge by his laughter. He pulls out just as slowly, and it soon becomes evident that he’s intent on teasing her this way for quite a long while.

Jane groans and tries to push back against him, tries to speed things along, but he laughs off her efforts at first, continuing the same easy, tormenting pace, his free hand reaching around to press lightly on her nipple. 

“How soon you forget, Jane,” he reminds her finally. “You know what you have to do.”

_Christ, this again. On the other hand, the orgasm score right now is Jane: 2, Loki: 0, so I suppose if he wants this-_ “Please, Loki, I’m begging you, stop teasing me!” Jane’s voice cracks embarrassingly, and she presses her face against the sheets to hide her blush. But it works; he rewards her by thrusting harder and faster inside her, hitting all the right spots over and over.

Jane thinks she’ll just die of frustration if he slows down or stops again, so she doesn’t hold back, continuing to beg him, until he’s moving so fast and rough inside her that she can’t catch her breath, and as his fingertips find her clit and start massaging it, that’s all it takes for Jane. _Make that_ _Jane: 3,_ is her last coherent thought.

As she starts to come down from her orgasm, Loki suddenly stops moving, and she can feel him pulsing inside her as he finally gives in. He gasps over and over, and she realizes it’s the first time in their whole encounter that he’s allowed himself to give up control like that. She thinks she could get used to hearing him make those sounds. 

He is withdrawing from her, releasing her wrists, and Jane collapses onto the bed, everything becoming a green-tinged haze, before she surrenders to total exhaustion.

She doesn’t know how long she’s out for, but she wakes back in her trailer, tucked into her bed, still naked. Aching in all the deliciously right places. And alone. Apparently Loki’s affections (if Jane can bring herself to call it that) do not extend to post-sex cuddling. Or at least, not yet. Jane’s a little disappointed, but in the end she decides that she’s feeling too satisfied to stay annoyed at him. She stretches lazily, and goes back to sleep, too sated to do otherwise.

Later, when she finally gets up and notices the red bitemarks on her neck, that’s when the doubts start to creep back in. He bit her, he marked her…should she be bothered by this? And he left without saying goodbye, or anything else. Is she even going to see him again, or was this the Asgardian version of a one-night stand?

But when her gaze falls on a SHIELD folder lying on her tiny, cluttered kitchen table, then reality really comes crashing back in. It had been one thing when Loki was only in her dreams, or lurking in the edges of her waking life like a mirage, but now he’s here in reality. She may be safe from him – maybe – but what about everyone else? Will Loki try to take some kind of revenge on Erik, on the Avengers? Does he have some new plan to take over the Earth and bend everyone to his will, and she’s just some treat on the side that he’ll reward himself with, after a good (bad?) day of misdeeds? 

It worries her enough to make her pick up the phone, but her hand freezes mid-dial. What is she going to tell Director Fury, exactly? “Loki is here.” _Yes? How do you know, Dr. Foster?_ “Well, Director, that’s because he fucked me five ways from Sunday mere hours ago.” 

Oh yeah, that’ll go over _real_ well. She isn’t exactly happy with SHIELD lately, but they _are_ helping her with her research. If they find out that she’s sleeping with Loki, will they take all her life’s work from her again? Will they brand her a traitor and lock her up? It makes Jane shake just thinking about it. _Why didn’t I think this through before?_ It makes her wonder if Loki really is mind-controlling her somehow, to make her forget how potentially dangerous he is. However, she’s sure, in her heart, that it’s not true. She’s in her own right mind, even if her ‘right mind’ seems to be making crazy decisions these days.

She agonizes about it for several days, all the while wondering if Loki will even return to her again. He certainly hadn’t indicated that he was going to be coming back anytime soon. Or maybe he’s waiting for her to summon him again? If that’s the case, and she never does, maybe he never will reappear, and her problems with SHIELD will basically never become an issue. She can’t warn the government about plans she knows nothing about, right?

The other side of the coin worries her even more, though. That one is: if she does warn SHIELD…what will _Loki_ do, if he finds out? He’ll probably see it as a betrayal, and this time he really _will_ kill her. Probably slowly and painfully. 

Jane feels trapped between a wall and an immovable object.

Finally, she makes a compromise with herself. As long as Loki doesn’t threaten anyone specific, or mention any specific plans to destroy or invade her planet, she won’t admit to anyone that he’s here. It sucks, it makes her feel like a traitor, but the truth is that she still wants him, and she will summon him back – and soon, if he doesn’t just turn up on his own – and she just can’t let this go. She’s never been with anyone like him, and may never be again, and she wants to see where this ends up.

God help her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Banner courtesy of the lovely **cincoflex**!

At some point, Darcy figures it out. Jane’s not sure when it happened exactly; she had participated in that wild night with Loki six days ago, but it’s only today that Darcy finally corners her during their lunch break.

“Alright, _spill_ ,” she says, holding Jane’s coffee cup up out of reach. 

“About what?” Jane stalls, just on the off chance that this isn’t going where she thinks it is. Erik turns to watch them from the lab’s kitchen stove, his spatula poised in the middle of flipping pancakes.

Darcy rolls her eyes theatrically. “C’mon Jane, d’you think we’re idiots? You’ve been practically _glowing_ since last weekend. And you really think anyone is fooled by that scarf? It pretty much screams: ‘Hey, I have a hickey!’ You got laid, didn’t you?’

_Not a hickey. More like a set of teethmarks,_ Jane corrects to herself, unable to stop from reaching up and rubbing the spot. “My coffee. Give it up,” Jane insists, holding out her hand. 

“No, _you_ give it up. Who’s the guy?” Darcy continues, keeping the mug high out of reach. 

“Good for you, Jane,” Erik jumps in. He hesitates, his gaze shifting between Jane and Darcy. “You’ve seemed, well, kind of down since Thor left-“

“What’s he like?” Darcy interrupts. She can be a real pit-bull about this sort of thing, Jane knows from unfortunate past experience. “Blond? Dark?”

Jane has to restrain a hysterical giggle. _Dark? Oh yes._ Darcy has _no_ idea. Jane’s hand unconsciously rubs the bite-mark again.

“I think it’s best that I don’t kiss and tell, Darcy,” Jane says firmly. It seems safest, especially since Erik’s here. This isn’t a conversation she’s comfortable having in front of him anyway – he’s practically a father to her – but for her to be screwing the same person who once took over Erik’s mind….yeah, awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“No way, you did NOT just say that,” Darcy protests, setting Jane’s coffee down hard enough to slosh some out onto the table. “I tell you _everything_ about my love life-“

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish you didn’t,” Jane retorts, though she regrets it the moment she says it. Darcy doesn’t deserve to pay for Jane’s guilt over…. _ whatever _ it is that she’s doing with Loki.

Luckily, Darcy’s skin is almost as thick as Loki’s leather armour. “Um, Jane, I hate to break this to you, but that’s what’s considered ‘girl talk’. And you- “ Darcy points to Jane, “and I-“ she points to herself. “Are _girls_. It’s, like, a law or something.”

Erik comes to the table with the pancakes, shaking his head and smiling at the two of them. “Have you been seeing this guy long, Jane?”

Jane can’t think of any reason to avoid that particular question. “No. I mean, we just started seeing each other last weekend, in person, really-“

“I _knew_ it!” Darcy proclaims triumphantly.

Erik elbows Darcy, but gently. “So, when do we get to meet this guy? Anyone who makes you _glow-_ “ he winks at Darcy “-is someone I’d like to meet.”

Jane practically chokes to death on her coffee. When she’s done coughing (with a few fake coughs thrown in to buy some time), Jane replies: “Well, it’s kind of a long-distance thing. He was here over the weekend, but now he’s gone.” It’s even partially true.

Erik sits back in his chair and takes a sip of coffee, looking wistful. “Ah, long-distance relationships are tough.”

“Boy, tell me about it,” Darcy cuts in. “Did I ever tell you about this guy I dated during my first year at university? He was going to school in  Chicago , see…”

Relieved, Jane lets Darcy take over the conversation. It seems she managed to dodge the bullet. For now.

*~*~*

Jane tosses and turns in her narrow bed, finally throwing the covers aside and yanking her jeans on. She grabs her jacket, scarf, and car-keys from the kitchen table. Maybe a drive will clear her head.

She drives out into the desert, purposely avoiding the area where Thor first arrived. That’s the last thing she wants to remember right now.

When she finds what feels like a ‘good’ spot, she stops the truck and gets out, staring upward at the lazy sprawl of stars above her. If you’d told her a year ago that alien life would’ve contacted them, that she would’ve met Thor, and that she would be…. _involved_ with a supposed god of mischief from a mythical place that actually exists in real life….No wonder everything about her own life feels so surreal lately.

It’s all so confusing, so complicated. She’s sneaking around, she’s hiding information from the government, and worst of all, she’s lying to her closest friends. And all for what? Are three orgasms and one night of mind-blowing, somewhat kinky sex (with the promise of more to come) worth this tap-dance she’s doing?

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” Jane asks the chill night air, shaking her head.

She isn’t expecting an answer, but she gets one anyways.

“Why not?” 

Jane doesn’t look back at him, even though he’s standing close enough that she can feel his body heat. “Of course _you_ would. God of Mischief and Lies, right? ‘Complicated’ must be your middle name.” It comes out sounding a lot more bitter than she meant it, and Loki seems to go still as stone behind her.

A long moment passes, and then he walks around to stand in front of her. She stares resolutely at the patterns on the golden semi-circle ornament on his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. Whatever game he wants to play right now, she’s not in the mood.

He reaches out and touches her hair, smoothing the strands between his fingers. “Already having regrets, my pet?” Jane listens for the expected note of mockery in his voice, but it isn’t there. She risks a glance up at his face, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was hanging on her answer. “Tell me what is troubling you now, that did not trouble you the last time we parted,” he finally says, a note of command creeping back into his voice.

Jane shakes her head, turning a little away from Loki. There’s probably a pit-trap in that question, waiting to catch her. Since when is he interested in being her confidante? 

After a moment it all spills out of her anyways, though, because while Loki might be a master at lying, she’s not even a yellow belt at it. “As I said, it’s complicated,” she repeats. “This could end very badly for me.”

“I thought you trusted me not to bring harm to you,” Loki says quietly. Jane shakes her head some more and stares up at the stars again, focusing on them as she explains: “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s everyone else! SHIELD is probably not going to react well if they find out you’re not only here on Earth, but that I’m….” here Jane pauses, searching for the right word, finally deciding on: “ _involved_ with you. I’m sure ‘treason’ wouldn’t be too strong a word. And if they did find out, what would they do? At best, they would only take away my research again. At worst? Probably throw me into  Guantanamo Bay.” Tears blur her vision as she remembers the impotent frustration she felt, the first time they came and ‘borrowed’ her work, but she blinks them away.

“I don’t know of that place, but I would guess that you do not want to be imprisoned. You need not be afraid; I would never allow them to do those things to you,” Loki says even more softly, but Jane’s not interested in that particular promise. Or lie. This is her life, and she doesn’t need him or anyone else to ‘save’ it for her. She trusted Thor to do that once, and he did get her life’s work back for her, but she doesn’t want to be in that position ever again.

“And that’s not even what bugs me the most!” Jane continues. “Lying to Darcy and Erik, that’s what’s keeping me up at night. Especially Erik, after what _you_ did to him.” She hadn’t meant to say that, to take things that far, but it’s out of her mouth now, it’s hanging in the air between them. 

Loki doesn’t say anything, though, and almost without her willing it, the next logical step spills out: “And then I start thinking, why the hell are you here? Planning the next alien invasion of Earth? Trying to pump me for information about SHIELD?  I doubt you escaped from Asgard just to come here and get some tail.”

“I don’t know what you mean. ‘Tail’?” He asks, and he almost sounds plaintive to her, but she still won’t let herself look at him. He’s volatile, and she’s probably already said more than enough to get him angry with her. Too late, she remembers that she’s in the middle of the desert, at night, all alone with a god that she just told off.

Nobody even knows she’s out here.

It’s too late to stop now, though. “Have sex,” she clarifies. She’s about to continue venting, but then abruptly she changes her mind. She’s said enough, paid out enough rope for Loki to hang her with, if he wants to. “Like I said,” she concludes, “ _complicated_.”

He circles around slowly, until he’s behind her, and Jane tries not to tense up. _Look at the stars_ , she says to herself. In some ways, they are her oldest friends. If he’s about to end her life, at least she can take comfort in knowing that she’s dying in the company of the things she loves most.

But he doesn’t lay a hand on her, and when he finally speaks, he sounds calm and perfectly reasonable. As if he expected this all along. “So, I take it you wish to end this, then? You do not want to continue our…arrangement.”

“I never said that,” Jane retorts, almost angry. But it’s not Loki she’s angry at, it’s herself. Because despite all the danger, all the potential ways that she can pay dearly for what she’s doing with him, the one thing she’s most sure about, is that she does _not_ want this to end. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. I’m afraid of what the outcome might be if other people find out, yes, and I HATE lying to the people I love, but I don’t want our ‘arrangement’-“ that  label works for her, yes “-to end, no. I just  wish it was easier.” 

The very desert itself seems to take a breath, to pause, as if it’s listening to their conversation, and Jane can almost feel the wheels of Loki’s mind turning, processing what she just said. “Why?” he asks at last. “If the cost is so great – or could be – why would you  wish to continue?”

But she has no real answer for that. Not one that makes any sense. She’s not in love; she doesn’t know him well enough or long enough at all for _that_. To say she’s doing it for the kinky sex isn’t right, either. She’s not stupid enough to risk her freedom and her life’s work just for that. So, still looking up at the stars, she says only the truth, “I don’t know. But I know if we stop now, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering where it would have gone.”

Deafening silence follows, and when Jane turns around, she realizes she’s alone again. _Typical man,_ she thinks. _Pour your heart out, and they take off. Apparently Asgardian and human males have that in common. Terrific._

Shivering, Jane wraps her jacket tightly around herself, wondering if Loki has just made the all-important decision for her. And if so, what it was.

*~*~*

Sleep comes a bit easier once Jane gets back to her miserable excuse for a ‘home’. Things are no less complex, but at least she got to vent to someone about it. Even if he was probably the last person she _should_ have vented to.

Her sleep is dreamless and calm. Which makes it even stranger when she suddenly jerks awake, not sure what woke her. Groggy, she gropes for the watch she keeps under her pillow, but it’s not there. Frowning, she tries to reach down over the side of the bed, in case it fell on the floor….except that she can’t. The mattress is suddenly a lot bigger than it used to be. And it’s got a headboard and footboard. _What the Hell?_

Blinking, Jane sits up, finally realizing that this isn’t her trailer. Yet another hotel room. Loki really doesn’t approve of her ‘temporary living situation’, it appears. Then again, considering how tiny her bedroom alcove is, he’s probably got the right idea. _If this keeps up, maybe I should rent an apartment in Puente Antiguo,_ Jane thinks, scanning the room for Loki, but he’s not there. Or rather, if he’s there, he’s not allowing her to see him.

Jane climbs out of the unfamiliar bed, adrenalin pushing away the last dregs of her sleepiness. She’s not afraid, exactly, but she’s not sure what’s going on, either. 

Out of nowhere warm hands suddenly descend on her shoulders, gripping her firmly and holding her in place. He’s standing behind her, she can feel his heat again,  breathe in the scent of leather that clings to him. He sweeps her hair away from her neck, leaning in and planting a series of the softest of love-bites along the length of her throat, and Jane shivers and closes her eyes, already fighting back a moan. It seems he wants their ‘arrangement’ to continue, too.

His next words confirm it. “Say that you belong to me,” he says softly right into her ear, his  breath tickling her skin. 

She wants to, but it’s somehow hard to say it out loud. It must be her inner militant feminist again. She manages it, though, because that’s what she signed up for, right? “I belong to you,” she says. Her voice shakes a little.

His hands slide off of her, and he backs away, leaving her cold. ”Remove your clothing,” he orders. Jane turns to look at him, and he’s wearing his usual smirk. 

Jane doesn’t have much to take off, but she does it slowly, her face heating as she realizes how closely Loki is watching her, like he’s assessing every curve she reveals. It’s ridiculous, he’s seen her naked, has at least a passing acquaintance with every inch of her, and yet the way he’s looking at her, the desire in his eyes, almost makes her feel like this is their first time all over again.

When she’s naked, he stalks slowly around her, sizing her up. Somehow, it’s even harder to tolerate his scrutiny, because he’s wearing every last stitch of that damned armor. Again.

He circles back to stand in front of her, grinning at her obvious discomfort. “Get on your knees,” is his next command, but Jane doesn’t cooperate. She’s already tired of this, of being the one who’s always naked and exposed, while Loki gets to hide behind his leather and metal.

“No,” she shoots back. His expression of surprise is almost comical. Clearly, he doesn’t expect her to defy him.

“Not until you take off all that armour. It’s sexy as hell, but I want to see _you_ ,” Jane explains quickly, though his darkening expression almost makes her go to her knees anyway. They haven’t set any terms for what he will do if she disobeys, and she’s not sure she wants to find out.

Loki finally gives her a smile, but it’s hard-edged as a sword, more of a threat than anything else. “It will be a difficult task, to  break that spirit of yours, but I’m going to enjoy trying,” he rasps. Jane clenches her fists, wondering if she’s about to find out exactly what Loki will do to ensure her obedience, but when he starts to unbuckle the metal shielding covering his right wrist, then tosses it unceremoniously on the floor, she relaxes. 

It seems to take a long time, with all the bits and pieces and the various fastenings, but he finally sheds everything, God knows how many pounds of leather, metal and green cloth. Jane tries to look at him without gawking like she’s never seen a man before. Naked, his shoulders aren’t as broad as she thought – the armour definitely enhanced his form in that arena – but it’s hardly a complaint. He’s pale, well-muscled and lanky, and she can’t help stealing glances at the black curls that start their trail at his belly, making a straight line down until they surround the obvious evidence of his desire.

“There, girl, you’ve seen. Now you will obey, or you’ll feel the weight of my hand,” he growls, but there’s a mischievous light in his eyes, and Jane thinks he’s secretly thrilled that she wanted him in all his naked glory. Literally. 

Abruptly, Jane remembers his last order, but when she starts to kneel, Loki stops her, his fingers tight around her wrist. “Hold, dearest, I’ve had a change of mind. Lay down on the bed, on your back.”

Jane does, following his directions to raise her arms above her head, to spread her legs. “More,” he growls, staring right between her thighs, and Jane struggles to obey, blushing all over again.

She’s not all that surprised when green smoke curls around the foot of the bed, resolving itself into three moderately-sized snakes. Two slide across her calves and wrap themselves first around each ankle, then the bed-posts, before morphing into more conventional (if green) ropes. The third slithers across her thigh and then up along her right side, eventually making its way up her arm and to her wrists, performing the same action when it gets there that its brothers did. When her binding is complete, Loki’s grin widens in a very predatory way, one that makes butterflies circle in Jane’s belly. She wonders if he will ever make this totally comfortable for her, or if there will always be this dance on the knife’s edge, this anxiety that one day he’ll push things too far.

It’s not enough to make her want to stop, however.

He kneels down on the bed between her legs, shifting to bend over her trapped ankle. Starting there, he covers the inside of her leg with tiny kisses, working his way slowly up. Soft bites are added to the mix as he crosses her knee and begins working up along her thigh, and Jane squirms. When he reaches the place where her thigh joins to the rest of her, predictably he stops, laughing softly, letting her feel the coolness of his breath caress her clit. “I so enjoy making you squirm. It’s almost as much fun as making you scream.”

When he skips over her aching center and starts all over on the opposite ankle, it’s no great shocker, but it still frustrates her. “Tease,” she accuses him through clenched teeth. He laughs again, biting down a little harder on her soft flesh, making her writhe and gasp. “But you so _love_ being teased. And even if you don’t, there is little you can do about it right now, my Jane. You are at my mercy.” His grin widens. “Such as it is.”

He continues his slow progress, and Jane tries to hold still, to not give him the satisfaction, but it’s nearly impossible. When he pauses between her thighs again, he blows lightly on her slick flesh, and the coolness makes her moan. 

He strokes her wet curls lightly and then parts her folds, tracing slowly along every ridge and crease, his bright green eyes glancing up frequently to drink in the expressions that wash over her face, as he teases every  individual nerve ending. He always avoids the exact spot she so desperately wants him to touch, his white teeth flashing in a mocking smile when she tries fruitlessly to thrash and get his touch where she wants it. His long fingers continue to explore her, to play her like a musical instrument. He dips a finger inside her, shallowly, circling the inside of her entrance as leisurely as he can, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from cursing when he eases back out of her.

Loki pulls away from her, getting up off the bed and looming over her. His excitement is obvious, though his facial expression is suddenly very controlled and focused. “Do you trust me, Jane?” he asks, and she wonders what he has planned, that he feels moved to check in with her.

“Yes,” she says. Then, because more seems required of her, she adds, “Would I even be here, otherwise?”

“Possibly not,” Loki says, but his attention seems focused elsewhere, and green haze spirals around the foot of the bed again. What is he doing now?

Jane starts a bit as she feels the dryness of snake scales sliding over her skin again, and when she glances down, the foot of the bed is covered in snakes. Small ones, large ones, all of them patterned boldly in green and gold and black, just like Loki’s armour. They slide slowly up her legs, across her pelvis, over her breasts, and Jane gasps and tenses up reflexively, pulling hard on her bonds.

“Don’t be afraid,” Loki says softly, and somehow she can hear him over the endless sibilant hissing. “Close your eyes, Jane. Give me your trust.” She does, trying not to think about the fact that she’s almost totally covered in snakes now. Other than over her face and between her thighs, they’re sliding along her sweat-slick arms and legs, over her belly, along her nipples. Her heart races, and almost against her will, she feels herself responding. It’s like being caressed slowly and sensuously by hundreds of hands, and it’s almost too much, her mind can’t process all the sensations she’s feeling.

“Open your eyes,” Loki commands sharply, and Jane does so just in time to see the largest snake of all birthed from the thinning smoke at the foot of the bed. It slithers slowly up, its destination obvious, and Jane stammers “Wh- what are you doing?”

He grins lasciviously. “Making you feel things you’ve  never felt before, I would wager.” He looks down and Jane does too, watching the snake. It raises its head and pauses, tongue flicking, then makes contact. Jane moans over and over as the thick snake slides along her clit like a long, smooth tongue, the stroke seeming endless. Even once that interminable first pass is complete, it circles back for a return trip. And another.

She doesn’t know how long he lets it go on for, only that for a long while all she can focus on is the cacophony of sensations rippling through her, on trying to remember to breathe. The times that she manages to open her eyes and look at him, he’s leaning against the bed, stroking himself slowly, watching and listening, basking in the sights and sounds of her pleasure. Somehow, that brings her closer to orgasm than anything his serpents are doing to her. 

He  banishes them with a curt gesture, just before she goes over the edge. They disappear in a green  flash. Jane’s so wet, she’s sure the bed is soaked through to the bottom of the mattress. The lightest of touches in just the right spot, and she’ll go off like a rocket.

But the God of Mischief can hardly let that happen so easily, of course. When he lies down next to her on the bed, the teasing games continue. He kisses her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He smoothes his hands down her arms, strokes light fingers across her  breasts and over her nipples, traces small, barely-ticklish circles around her navel. “One day, you are going to just _kill_ me this way,” Jane grits out, her back arching as much as it can. He kisses the bitemark on her neck, then laves it with his tongue. “You’re stronger than you think, Jane,” he purrs. “I’m sure you could withstand _days_ of this torment.” He shifts position, getting up and kneeling on the bed, straddling her hips. His erection presses insistently against her belly; she can almost feel it pulsing. “Fortunately for you, _I_ cannot stand to wait that long.” 

He leans down and kisses her again with bruising force, then moves down, kissing his way down between her breasts, swirling his tongue around her belly button (it tickles and Jane jerks against the ropes), and then settles himself comfortably between her legs. 

He parts her folds again, slips his tongue deeply inside her. Jane feels her legs starting to tremble, not sure how much more of this she can take. He licks his slow way up, eases her clit carefully out of its swollen hood, and then laps at it with long strokes. Jane makes a noise that would probably embarrass the Hell out of her in any other context, her whole body tensing. He stops, his green eyes laughing up at her. “But I do think a little more teasing is in order. If only because it amuses me so.”

“Bastard,” Jane spits out, without thinking. Loki’s eyes darken and flash dangerously, going cold enough that Jane half expects him to get up and leave. 

Or maybe do something worse.

He shakes his head slowly, his expression smoothing itself out. “I am most certainly not. But you know nothing of my parentage, and I prefer to save my wrath for those more deserving of it.”

Jane thinks she’s definitely stumbled onto something important, but that’s as far as she gets with that thought, because Loki wraps his mouth around her clit again, and she can’t get her brain to work any longer.

It’s a new brand of torture he’s subjecting her to, alternating between sucking on her clit, stroking it slowly with his tongue, or just pulling away completely and watching her face with rapt attention as his fingers move inside her, slowly coaxing her to the edge. When her orgasm comes, it’s almost out of nowhere, her whole body submerged in a wave of pleasure so deep she feels like she’s drowning in it. Of course, she screams, though she tells herself afterwards that she does it partially because she knows now how much he enjoys it. 

Loki releases her bonds, but waits for her to recover this time. He plucks a box of condoms magically from the air, much to Jane’s amusement, and then occupies himself reading the information on the back with great interest. After a few moments, he shakes his head slowly. “I can think of a few Asgardians whom Odin would do well to permanently sheathe like this, lest they burden Asgard with more and more dim-witted offspring.” Jane has to wonder if he’s referring to Thor, though Loki says no more about it. She’s not even sure if he’s being serious or not.

When Jane sits up, he makes quick work of applying a condom, and then he scoops her up. He seats himself on the edge of the bed, and Jane on his lap, facing him. “I would look into your face as I claim you for my own,” he whispers into her ear. “Now, guide me.” Jane takes him into her hand, stroking him. Some mischievous impulse of her own make her deliberately slide her hand lower, to caress his balls, and she puts on her own smirk as Loki groans, his gaze locked with hers.

He doesn’t object or try to stop her, so she continues to caress his length,  wishing he’d waited just a bit longer to put on the condom.  Indeed, she’s about to suggest just scrapping this one, because she _wants_ to touch him, to feel him, but he grabs her hand and makes her stop. “Enough! I want to feel the heat inside you. I want to watch you come. Obey me. Now!”

Jane does as he says, sliding him into her, moaning herself as she stretches a little to accommodate him. It’s an interesting position, one she hasn’t tried before, and his rough thrusts cause her to feel pressures in new places. Face-to-face with him like this, there’s nowhere for either of them to hide their pleasure from each other. Jane can see every bead of sweat on his forehead, every muscle that moves every time his jaw clenches. There are no words to describe how that makes her feel.

Jane thinks there’s something like affection in Loki’s eyes when he comes to a stop, a strangled gasp ripping itself out of his throat. He spends himself into her, and then slides himself out almost immediately, but he quickly replaces the loss with his hand. He massages her clit in hard, rough circles until Jane shudders and gives in, Loki’s gaze intent on her face, watching every reaction, as he promised earlier.

He gets up a little shakily, turning and placing her down on the pillows. He stretches like a lazy cat, and then goes over to his discarded armour, starting to dress again.

She wants him to stay, but she won’t beg. Instead, she tries to stall him with questions. “You never told me why _you_ are so keen to maintain our ‘arrangement’,” Jane tries.

He grins over at her, like he knows exactly what she’s doing, and pulls on his leather pants. _He goes commando,_ Jane can’t help noticing. _Why am I not surprised?_ Her eyelids want to close, but she forces them open, determined to try to keep Loki here as long as she can manage.

Loki’s wearing that predatory grin again. “I’m not yet willing to give up that which is mine.” He winks at her, then turns his back, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

Struggling to think of something else to say, Jane can only come up with: “I’m sorry I called you a bastard. It’s a pretty mild insult here, but I guess it’s different in Asgard.” 

He goes still again, but only for a moment. “As I said, it matters not,” he replies smoothly, carelessly, but it seems false. Or so it seems to Jane.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” she invites.

Still facing away from her, Loki shakes his head slowly. “You would not understand.”

Jane sits up, reaching to touch his still-bare shoulder. “Then explain it to me.”

Loki brushes her hand off. “No.”

_Damn it_ , Jane thinks. But Loki is already trying to change the subject.

“Would you believe me, Jane Foster, if I said that I had no current plans to take over the Earth?” He’s not looking at her, his gaze fixed on his hands, turning a piece of golden metal armour slowly around and around.

Jane doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s the God of Lies, after all. And ‘current’ plans is pretty specific. Today, he might not, but tomorrow, or next week? It’s so ironic that she trusts him completely with her body, but not with her planet, or her fellow humans.

Would she end things with him, even if she knew he still planned to take over the Earth? The answer to that question is the same as her answer to his question: “I’m not sure.”

As soon as it’s out of her mouth, it feels too harsh. He hasn’t mistreated her, not since appearing to her in the flesh, and he hasn’t threatened anyone or anything else that she knows of. Guilty until proven innocent? That’s just not fair, and Jane realizes that she doesn’t really know the circumstances that motivated his earlier attempt to enslave the human race. 

Jane reaches out, trying to touch him again, but before she can, green smoke swirls thickly up from around the bed, whipping around her like a miniature tornado, blinding her. 

When it clears, she’s back in her trailer, lying on her bed. Alone once more, Jane pounds her fist into her pillow several times, angry with herself. Once again, she’s left things awkward between them. Maybe this time, he won’t come back.

Something brushes softly against her ear, like a caress. She gasps and turns in that direction, but no one is there. Still, his voice whispers in her ear, heavy with promise: “Until next time, my Jane.”

That works for her. 

  



End file.
